


Guess Who's Coming to Dinner!

by anotherdirtycomputer



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Awesome Frigga (Marvel), F/M, Family Drama, Frigga (Marvel) Lives, Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid Loki (Marvel), M/M, Multi, No Incest, Odin (Marvel)'s A+ Parenting, Other, Queer Themes, Sugar Daddy AU, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Valkyrie is a Good Bro, because thanos is a gross purple shithead, but no actual sex because im a coward, it was loki, my weird au that was supposed to be funny that i ended up taking way too seriously, some sexual themes, this is my open letter to infinity war apppppppaaarently, who brought jeff goldblum to the holiday dinner?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-03-12 12:32:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13547400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotherdirtycomputer/pseuds/anotherdirtycomputer
Summary: After falling out with their family, Loki has found a sugar daddy in the form of one En Dwi Gast, otherwise known as The Grandmaster. After many arguments and on-and-off radio silence between them and their folks, Loki impulsively decides to come home to try to make things right; but they bring a plus one - and they cannot, for the life of them, leave their memories behind.Alternatively: Loki is a wreck, Brunnhilde is awesome, and Thanos is gonna catch these hands.





	1. by the pool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this intro is quite short, despite how long ive been working on this fic oof.... but thats alright, ive got more in store for anyone willing to read this mess of a fic. if youre interested, leave comments yelling at me to write, or hmu @transboythor on tumblr and bully me into writing it! the humor comes soon. hopefully.

_Sweet tangles of dark hair in rough fingers, pulled and petted in equal measure. A laughing mouth pressed against a gasping one, licking at teeth. A whine, a mewl. Another night of bliss._

And now - midday.

He supposes he should feel something like shame. Loki pauses before he brings the wine glass to his mouth, his lips parted by the sudden epiphany. The side of his mouth quirks upward in an amused smirk and he looks into the glass of sea-dark wine and breathes an unkind laugh. He  _should_ feel something like shame, but he doesn't. All he feels is the drink warm in his gut, the sun hot on his face, and the cool, luxurious fabric of his shirt gently soothing his skin.

The silk shirt is blue, not so different a color than the water of the chlorinated pool he lounges by, because that's what Gast likes him in most - blue, and navy, and aqua, and teal. Gast drowns his pet in gifts the color of the ocean, spoiling him with sapphires and expensive, blue-bound books, and handsome blue blazers, and even shoes. A shameful bounty of gifts, shamefully earned.

Loki fights off a crow-like cackle.  _Oh,_ he thinks,  _but earn them, I do!_

Something in his mind that breathes and sees like his father says,  _And that's the most shameful part._  

Loki fights off another wave of cruel-hearted amusement as he circles the rim of the glass with a finger like a bird circles prey, his nails painted navy. The best he can manage is sticking his tongue between his grinning teeth to keep from laughing. He should feel something like shame, yes, aren't you smart,  _Odin_ , a whole white-hot belly  _full_ of shame, enough to make him sick, but all he feels is his sore thighs and his sore ass and his own unending gleefulness at being Gast's favorite and best-kept lover.

If his father, after all, could not and  _would_ not pay for the lavish life he so required, Loki muses, then why not replace him with something better? There was little reason  _not_ to find a very handsome older man, in Loki's humble opinion, who is quite frankly fucking loaded, in the bank's humble opinion, and fuck him until his bank account runs dry.

Odin had always taught his children to use their strengths, after all.  _These_ are Loki's.

It helps immensely that Gast is truly good company, of course; not to mention a very easy-going, very accepting person. Sure, he's a bit on the strange side, and a part-time sadist to boot, but he's also so...  _relaxed_ about everything in a way Loki downright craves after his upbringing. Loki only knows how lucky he is to have found a sugar daddy who does not look  _past_ his "baggage" and instead gazes directly at it, at every part of him, and grins in manic delight.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear; Gast waltzes in (Loki is certain he is dancing, although the glare of the sun off his sparkling outfit makes it difficult to determine), and smiles at Loki's animalistic expression.

"Having a, uh, good time out here, sweetheart?" Gast smiles at Loki, who gives him a fond look in return over his expensive sunglasses. "Rarely do I see you utilizing our lovely..." He gestures vaguely toward the pool. "Yeah." He arms droop a bit, but he still smiles, all teeth and no bite, his voice coming in a thoughtful murmur, "Good day for it, though. Hot."

And it  _is_ a lovely day for it - warm, yes, because it's mid-Summer, but the wind makes its apologies with cool breezes that kiss away the sweat at Loki's brow.

Loki hums in agreement, pushing the sunglasses back over his eyes. "You should join me, then. We can... beat the heat together." He's wearing the two top buttons of his shirt undone the way Gast likes, showing as much neck as he can. It's a lovely day for it, after all.

"Or the meat - ha!" Gast shakes his head. "No, no, I -" He huffs a bit, hands still in front of him, gesturing. His brows are drawn, though his disposition is still agreeable. "I was going - well, I'd  _like_ to, very much, to, to take you out on the town, you know, buy you some good things, things you like." Gast grins again. "Sound good, doll?"

Loki hums again. "We can play when we get home, then." He stands to leave, stretching out like a big house cat. "Sure, lover. Let me get dressed, and then I'll go with you."

Without replying, Gast waltzes happily back through the double glass doors that lead to the pool and leaves to do whatever he does with his time while awaiting Loki.

Loki doesn't question it too much. He'll be in the sitting room, somehow, as soon as Loki descends the stairs, ready to leave.

He quickly follows Gast's path through the doors and into his - their - home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos are jeff goldblum's best friends!


	2. out on the town

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didnt mean for the chapter to take so long! - it took a while for it to properly mesh together, and now im sick, blegh, but i should be getting this thing posted rather regularly now... thank you so much for all the amazing comments! i had no idea this fic would blow up like that. i'll do my best to write something worth the attention :D enjoy!

Loki loves her life - the glamour, the elegance, the nightly bliss... The days pass by in a delighted haze, the evenings a perfect flurry of fine-dining and art shows and the like. Money can buy a girl just about anything, and Loki takes full advantage of this in a way she never could before. It's everything she ever dared to dream of - she can spend as long as she wants studying anything she wants, she can go to all sorts of museums and clubs at any time she desires, and she is forever without a worry as to losing her funding or being forced into something she doesn't want. Everything is perfect.

Or at least, it should be. Occasionally, the on-and-off radio silence of her family makes her heart ache, momentarily spoiling the fantasy she now lives in. She brushes it off best she can. The silence, she reminds herself, failing to ignore the dead weight of the phone in her pocket, is infinitely better than the few times her brother may try to reconnect, especially after...

She tells herself she doesn't miss him.

She tells herself a lie.

-

The white fur of the coat is lovely and soft, even stylish, but it is entirely the wrong color. Loki tells Gast this.

"It  _should_ be black," she says, only sounding a bit mulish. It's her own fault, she reminds herself angrily, for thinking of Thor the entire drive over. "Black is so much more attractive."

Gast brushes a curl of her long black hair behind her ear, smiling. "I am inclined to agree!" His flirtatious nature makes it easier for her to smile back. "You look so much, uh, so  _gorgeous_ in  _color_ , though. It's a shame for you to... dress so drab."

She hums mock-thoughtfully, only to appease him. The soft fabric beneath her fingers calms her - she's certain it would feel lovely to wear. She would look like a queen, or a mighty sorceress; something dangerous and serene. So  _dramatic_. She can imagine so easily in her mind the exasperated smile Frigga might sport. _''_ '

_'So theatrical dear,'_  She'd shake her head, golden-blonde curls bouncing in the up-do she so usually sported.  _'That's my Loki.'_

Loki lets her hands fall from the garment. Or, she tells herself she does. To Gast, it must appear as if the expensive fur burned her slender fingers. She turns quickly to face her lover, an excuse on her tongue, but the somewhat concerned shock on his face stops her breath between her lungs. The air sits there, as if to rot.

The store is suddenly far too large and far too brightly lit.

Loki needs to escape, and she tells Gast as much.

"It's just," she chokes the words out. She can't think of what to say. Frigga's eyes haunt her. Odin's face in her mind is loving, disapproving, proud, disappointed - all in quick succession. "I've got so many clothes at home. Let's go there."

It's a bad excuse.

Gast says some things that Loki doesn't hear, because she isn't listening, because she really can't handle the way he just  _is_ sometimes. When he offers her a hand, however, she takes it gingerly, allowing him to lead her through shopping racks and aisles, then checkout lanes, then the busy parking lot. The brightly-colored clothes and white fluorescent lights are a blur to her. She gazes at nothing, walking daintily beside her lover all the way to the car.

When Gast opens the car door for her, she wordlessly steps in, buckling up. Gast sits beside her some time later, a smile on his face.

His personal assistant and current chauffeur, Topaz, asks for their next stop, her face stony and somewhat irritated. Loki knows from experience how few things can cause that expression to change.

Gast turns to Loki, his face deceptively gleeful. He's staying calm, unchanging, to keep her calm, too. She can read his eyes, however. "Perhaps a trip to see Tanaleer, my sweet?"

Loki nods, a pinched smile on her face. He knows she likes Tanaleer's company - though, not as much as she likes his home.

Gast's brother is a fine man - a bit of a creep, sure, but he and her father have been doing business for quite some time, so she's known him since she was in her early teens. Tanaleer, for all his strangeness, is a familiar face; a link between lives. It was his lawyers, too, which helped her nearly three years ago, now, and it was he who introduced Loki to Gast. His collections, too, are lovely, and familiar in a comforting sense. He and Gast can talk business while she scuffles off to finger through his fine rare novels.

Her phone vibrates and, sighing, she pulls it out of her pocket to swipe the message away. Her thumb hangs over the notification, however, frozen. Her eyes widen. In the rearview mirror, Topaz gazes at her suspiciously.

"Loki?" Gast waves a hand in front of her face. "Sweet, uh, sweetheart?"

Loki murmurs, "It's Thor."

And it is, to her shock and confusion. After many months of nothing - no calls, no emails; just memories of anger and cruel words - a message shines on her phone. The text reads only, "Come home". And it's from Thor.

Gast, suddenly, is peering over her shoulder. He looks interested, maybe even more than he is concerned. "Well?" he asks hopefully.

Loki thinks of Frigga's eyes, warm and proud. She thinks of the library at home that will never hold a candle to Tanaleer's and is yet her favorite place in the universe. She thinks of Thor's big, dopey grin.

She opens the text, typing her phone's passcode quickly, her shaking fingers only getting it wrong once, and stills when she sees three little dots under the message. He's still typing.

She waits, moving a bit away from Gast, who watches the screen with a raised eyebrow.

-

Brunnhilde holds the phone above her head, trying desperately to kick Thor in the face while she types. Thor makes a swipe for her legs, to knock her off from her perch on the back of the sofa.

"Stop it!" He yells at her. "Give it back you - you -"

Brunn throws a hard kick again and he grabs her ankle and pulls.

"Fuck!" she shouts, falling. She narrowly avoids whacking her head on the coffee table, hitting the floor instead, but the phone goes flying. She growls, "Bitch!" and scrambles to grab it.

Thor runs and kicks it from out of her reach, but she tackles his legs before he can chase it across the hardwood.

He falls, too, hard, his teeth hitting the floor with a painful clack. "Shit!" he curses.

Brunnilde bites his calf and he shouts out in pain.

-

"Oh, I wonder what he's typing!" Gast is dancing in his seat. "This is so exciting!"

-

Brunnhilde hits send with an aggressive flourish - not to gloat, or even on purpose, but because Thor pulls on the sleeve of her hoodie and makes her arm fly back.

"Ha!" she yells in triumph. "It's too late, big man - little brother has received the message."

"Sibling," Thor corrects on reflex, his face red with rage, his lip a bit fat and bleeding lightly from the fall. "We don't know, so 'sibling' and 'they'!"

Brunnhilde tosses him his phone, smiling. Her nose is bleeding from where she'd face-planted off the couch. "Brother, sister, sibling - doesn't matter. You miss them and I told them as much, since you fuckin' couldn't."

"Brunn-"

"No! All you do is fucking boohoo and mope around-"

"I don't-"

"You do!" Brunnhilde's smile is gone. Her face is full of anger and care. "Frigga told me how some days you just sit in hi- their room! It's fuckin' sad, Thor, and..." She sighs. "I feel responsible for your happiness, alright? You've helped me a lot since," she waves her hand in the air dismissively. He knows what she means. "You've helped me. Your family drama may be stupid, but it involves you, and if I can help you, I'm going to."

Thor tries to feel angry as he watches her rub the blood away from under her nose, but it's  _Brunnhilde_ , so he can't. Their entire friendship is built on the face that they're both stupid bisexuals that can't stay angry. So he sighs, kicks her halfheartedly with the leg she bit, and then moves to lean on her shoulder.

He's too afraid to check what the text to Loki says.

-

Loki's eyes are a bit moist. She's always been an easy crier.

**Text Received**  
From: Thor  
 _Mum misses you. Dad misses you. I miss you. I thumb through your old books you left and miss you. Mum sits out in the garden and looks at your baby pictures. Dad won't let anyone move the stuff in your room. We miss you and I'm sorry._

Gast, blessedly, doesn't say a word.

Loki texts back, biting the inside of her cheek, confused and hopeful and hateful. She wishes, briefly, she were a kinder person.

-

"All they sent was 'why now?', so..." Thor glances over at his friend.

She looks at his drawn brow and sad eyes and sighs. "Loki knows that Frigga's birthday is coming up. They were close."

Thor shrugs, because he knows that already. "So what do I say?"

Brunn puts her hand out expectantly.

-

_Come for dinner. For mum._

Gast nods in excitement. "Yes! Let's go tonight. How, uh, how exciting!" His hands wave eagerly around, a bit slower than his words. "Meet the folks - do you think they'll like me? Approve of me? I  _am_ the Grandmaster."

Loki looks at Gast in concern. "Do  _not_ bring up your BDSM club to my parents."

"So, we're going!"

For a brief moment, Loki visibly struggles, her face contorted in a rare show of raw, negative emotion. "I... Well, it's complicated, and I -"

"Do you want to go?" Gast asks, his face kind and open. Loki knows what he's truly asking.  _What are you feeling?_

Gast did this often; it was part of what made he and Loki perfect for each other. He'd strip down Loki's defenses - not to harm, but just to look, and to show Loki, too, that it was okay to  _feel_ and to not think so damned much.

Loki's been seeing a therapist since she was twelve, but no one has ever had quite the effect that En Dwi Gast has had on her healing.

She throws herself forward, desperately seeking his comfort. "I want to go home," Loki whispers, like a prayer against his chest. Something tender and secret, like all things between them. "I want..."

He whispers into her hair, "Which home?" but he is smiling, a rock in the storm. She is a hurricane, sometimes, always, and he is never washed away.

"I love you," but she says it like an apology. He knows.

His eyes are bright when he pulls away to look at her, his smile one of true excitement. "Let's go, then! You can introduce me. I bought you that coat, I don't, uh, I'm not sure if you noticed. You dissociated. Wear it, if you like!"

Loki blinks. "Oh - Okay. Alright. Thank you." Her smile is small, and she uses it to gently kiss his cheek.

The Grandmaster touches her face softly, looking bashful. He doesn't reply, however, because he's busy giving directions to Topaz.

Loki doesn't text Thor back. He'll see her soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos are a big brother's best friends!


	3. in the kitchen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki comes home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey youtube, im jerry and today we're gonna be playing cooking mama. the joke there is that this chapter takes place in a kitchen, and also frigga is there, which is what i assume sex is like.
> 
> remember when i said i was going to be updated regularly? im sure youve noticed that that indeed has not happened ajkds a lot of stuff has been going down, and this fic is a difficult one to chip away at. although i absolutely adore it, i struggle with longer works - im a 1k oneshot kind of guy haha <3 after the disappointment of infinity war and the ongoing celebration of pride month, though i think we all deserve some gay loki shit, and have thus come to deliver. i'll try to get another chapter out by the end of the month.
> 
> AND: i'd like to thank every single one of you for your comments, your kudos, or for just quietly lurking. i'll do my best to get more of this fic out there :D enjoooooy~

His hands were always cold, back then. Somehow. No matter what, those large hands, the hands that had made Loki feel so safe, so loved, had been freezing. For a time, she’d thought of them like the sweet bite of chill on a winter morning - a salve to cool her burning mind, her burning skin.

His hands were always cruel, back then. His eyes, his words - all cruel. There was some odd viciousness about him - he was so  _ detached _ from all else that it seemed strange now, thinking about it. It seemed strange now, realizing that she hadn’t noticed it.

Not until it was far too late, anyway.

At first, he’d seemed so smart, hadn’t he?  _ Capable _ . His heart was so big. He’d seemed, to Loki, like he could save the whole world; he’d tell her often enough, too, about his love, about his plans to make the world  _ better _ . His plans to save  _ her _ from what she’d made of herself. Loki thought his heart was so big.

Loki thought he was so kind.

Hands pruned and sensitive with dish water began to shake. He had been a fool, she knew now. He had been arrogant, and violent, and, she despaired, he’d outsmarted her.

She’d made her mistakes. Maybe coming home was one of them. Memories clung tightly to these halls. Pictures in gilded frames hung on every wall - holidays and vacations and everyday events preserved and yet not seen by Loki’s unfocused eyes.

Thanos had never stepped foot in this house, and yet his hands stained every inch of wallpaper. Even his smell seemed to linger.

“Darling?” Frigga spoke. Her tone held that odd urgency that implied she was repeating herself.

Loki’s eyebrows rose and he cocked his head, turning towards his mother quickly. She had one of her arms stretched up above her, balancing a plate in her fingers as she reached to push it onto the highest shelf of the cabinet. Her eyebrows were quirked in something like worry and amusement.

“Yes, Mother?” he said, a bit too late.

Her smile was soft like yellow roses. “You looked so haunted, dear Loki…” Her eyebrows furrowed further. “You do still go by Loki, yes?”

He laughed then out of shock, his face flushing in pleased surprise. “Yes, don’t worry. I told you at the door, didn’t I?”

“I’d hardly consider a  _ nod _ telling me, but… Yes, I suppose you did. Regardless,” Mother smiled again, the curve of her mouth belaying her amusement. “There are no foolish questions in this house.”

Loki knew this to be untrue, but he said nothing. The dishes needed more scrubbing before they could prepare for dinner.

The silence between them was awkward, although neither gave the appearance that it might be. Loki’s childhood home felt like the culminated panic of all his nightmares - the things he begged Gast to help him forget. This was no longer a place where Loki belonged. He felt this, and he could tell Frigga did, too.

Frigga’s face was serene, beautiful, and poised, but her lips were just a bit too thin, he shoulders just a bit too tense. Being the baby of the family, as well as the only to truly take up the family tradition of witchcraft, Loki knew Frigga better than anyone. She had taught him their Craft, but with it had come a thirst for knowledge, an appreciation for the incomprehensible, and a deep understanding of his mother. He knew her, and he knew what weighed heavy on her mind now.

She did not recognize him.

He wondered, then, staring down at a watery steak knife, if that was a good thing.

“Perhaps I should wash that one, dear…”

Frigga gently but firmly waved Loki away from the sink. He acquiesced, gracefully stepping to the side as he handed over the knife with care, and began to try his hands on a spare dish towel. He caught her glancing, a few time, towards his arms, where the royal blue of his shirt sleeves were folded up to his elbows, but his eyes did not follow hers.

Making his way around her, he began to put away the dishes she had started drying, making sure they weren’t too damp before finding their rightful place. Although it had been so long since he’d been home, little seemed different - all the plates still went on the same shelves, all the spoons and forks still went in the same drawer. It was… disorienting. It Loki were honest, it was a bit upsetting.

But Loki was not honest.

As he put away the dishes, he turned the insides of his wrists away from his mother’s line of sight.

“I thought things would have changed more,” he admitted. “Even my favorite old mug is in here.”

Frigga pushed a bowl into his hands for drying. “Yes,” she breathed with a laugh. “One  _ would _ think that, wouldn’t they? But, you’ll learn, dear, that in old age, the familiar becomes companionable.”

He couldn’t help it - he teased her, “You’re just saying words.”

Her closed-mouth grin was full of mischief. “One would think that, wouldn’t they?” She punctuated her joke with a wink.

Loki bit the side of his tongue to keep from smiling, but the smirk came regardless.

Oh, he had missed her, hadn’t he?

This, too, was disorienting.

Everything about the experience was disorienting - Odin in the other room, acting as if Loki had come home from college vacation; Thor, with his dumb new beard and flannel; the new woman, with her white tattoos - a retired wrestler if he recognized her correctly from Gast’s old programs; and Gast himself, here, in Loki’s childhood home, talking animatedly, slouched in a dining chair and adorned in the white fur coat he’d just bought his lover. The woman, Thor’s friend - Brunnhilde, she’d introduced herself as - had called her Cruella Deville when she’d walked in wearing the thing. Gast had, as was his way, immediately begun singing the tune.

It was an interesting experience. A disorienting one.

None of this should have been happening.

Loki should be at home, curled up in Gast’s arms, sitting on their stupidly white furniture and watching trash T.V. on a flatscreen half as large as the wall it was mounted on.

They were not meant to be here. This place belonged in the past. Loki’s past belonged in woebegotten memories, left for him to blissfully forget after too much drink.

Gast would be given quite the talk later about allowing his lover to make decisions while obviously emotionally compromised. Yes, Loki decided. Gast would receive quite the tongue-lashing, and not even in a way he liked.

“I was thinking, my little witch,” Loki looked up again towards Frigga’s smile. “That we might make lamb tonight.”

Loki’s eyes widened fractionally. He loved lamb, and obviously Mother knew this, but to have it prepared here, again, like things were normal, like he’d never even left…

“Sounds good, Mum,” he replied politely, for a lack of anything else to say. “I’ll help in any way I can.”

Frigga laughed again, and although there was humor in it, Loki could tell it was humorless. “I’d much rather simply feed you, my dear. Although, I know you are stubborn.”

He smirked wryly. “Too true. Just stubborn enough to keep my mother from working herself to the bone.”

Her laugh was genuine this time. “I could always have your father do it all instead.” She sighed, glancing towards the sounds in the dining room. Quietly, she said to Loki, “I’m sorry he’s…”

Loki shrugged. “I know my father. It offends me very little. I’m honestly just surprised…”

“Surprised?”

Loki struggled with their words. “Well, after I left… After everything, I thought for sure-” They shook their head. “No, it’s no use talking about it.” They turned to their mother, saw her sad eyes, and forced a smile. “Dinner will be lovely, regardless.”

“Always changing the subject, little Loki.” Her eyes bore into theirs, and they found they could not look away. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

They did. She meant what she said, but she was wrong.

“I’m not hiding,” they lied. “Everything’s fine, Mum.”

Her eyes burned into them. Loki knew what she saw.

“Alright,” she whispered. “Dishes are done. I’ll just go get your father, then, shall I?”

No. “Sounds swell.”  _ He doesn’t want me here. _

Her face softened again, warming up like sunshine had rolled right over her. She made her way out of the kitchen as Loki followed, and joked, for the sake of the other’s at the table, “That is, if I can get your father to leave that damned office of his. One would think we kept him locked in there.”

Thor chuckled, meeting eyes with loki, then avoiding them.

Brunnhilde shrugged. “Long as we keep him fed and watered, it’s not inhumane, is it?”

-

_ “Food and water - everyone deserves these things. But, sometimes, sacrifice is necessary.” His hand touches her face, cold as glass, a stark contrast against her flushed skin. _

_ She holds onto every word, and yet she barely hears him. _

_ Here, pressed close to his side, she is the sacrifice. He seems to know. _

_ Does it amuse him? _

-

Frigga laughed. “No, I suppose not.” She continued onward, and shouted from down the hall, “We’ll get him a big hamster wheel! Keep him fit!”

Brunn laughed at that one, and Loki smirked, too. Gast seemed happy to just watch; to look around the house with enraptured joy, like a child at a themepark or a zoo. When he gave the nearest seat a playful little pat, Loki sat next to him with a smile, leaning against the fur of the borrowed coat.

“I like your family,” Gast stage-whispered, winking. In a normal voice, for Thor and Brunnhilde’s sake, he continued, “They seem like lovely folks.”

Brunn grinned crookedly, lifting her Gatorade with a nod, and Thor smiled a bit more shyly.

Loki met Thor’s eyes, and this time, they held. “Yes,” they agreed. “That’s one way to describe them.”

When Thor grinned, Loki did, too.

-

_ “You’re supposed to do better, Loki.” He’s unhappy - he rarely smiles anymore. Loki used to get so giddy when she could make him smile; now she’s scared when she can’t. “You’re supposed to be more than this.” _

_ He’s disgusted - and he should be. She’s disgusting. She’s crying like a child - she can hardly breathe through it. She’d snuck out of her window to come see him, because she needed him, she needs him, and now she’s ruined it. _

_ “But don’t worry. I can help you. You want my help, don’t you?” _

_ Please. “Yes, Thanos. I’m sorry-” Please. _

_ “Don’t be sorry. Not yet.” _

_ When his hand hits her, it’s cold as ice, and so is she. _

_ It amuses him, when she flinches, when she cries. When she asks him to hit her again, so she can feel it. He pretends, in dark hours, that he has to do this - that this is his sacrifice. She knows better, and so does he; she comes here for this, and he revels in it, in his own power over her. She is the sacrifice, in the end, in the beginning, but the joke’s on him - because she has nothing left. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man, remember when this fic was supposed to be a silly crackfic? hope ya'll like EMOTIONS and TRAUMA and ME PROJECTING THRU LOKI. on that note:
> 
> comments and kudos are a queer's best friends! happy pride!
> 
> EDIT: i realize now that this chapter is in a different tense than 1 and 2. i would fix it, but i dont get paid to write this, so maybe later akdhslds SORRY ABOUT THAT!


End file.
